. . .Ruth pressed her face against the balusters. In the distance below she could see the small grey form of the kitchen cat making its way[14] swiftly and silently downstairs. It went so fast that it seemed to float rather than to run, and was soon out of sight.

"I should like to have played with it up in the nursery," she said, with a sigh, as she continued her way. "I wish you hadn't frightened it away."

"Lor', Miss Ruth, my dear," answered Nurse, "what can a little lady like you want with a nasty, low, kitchen cat! Come up and play with some of your beautiful toys, there's a dear! Do."

Nevertheless Ruth thought about the cat a great deal that afternoon, and the toys seemed even less interesting than usual. When tea was over, and Nurse had taken up her sewing again, she began to make a few inquiries.

"Where does that cat live?" she asked.

"In the kitchen, to be sure," said Nurse; "and the cellar, and coal-hole, and such l. . . Read More